


not yet a breach, but an expansion

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Domestic, Domestic Kink, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Vanilla, Vanilla Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Berry has it all - a great job, a nice apartment, and a hot boyfriend that she is <i>extremely</i> sexually compatible with. The best part of it is that Sam and Rachel both feel like part of being able to completely satisfy your partner sometimes means accepting that someone else might fill a specific need of theirs better than you can.</p><p>And for Rachel, that's where Blaine Anderson comes in. </p><p>(the Sam/Rachel and Blaine/Rachel are both explicit; the Kum and Klaine are both referenced several times)</p>
            </blockquote>





	not yet a breach, but an expansion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the vanilla kink square on my [Kink Bingo card](http://autumnfox.akrasiac.org/kbingo/2012/cardset1-645.jpg). Many thanks to sansastarks and wikkit_key for the beta and to them + primarycolors92 for the hand-holding and encouragement :')
> 
> Title comes from Donne's A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning ~~because Donne is the shit.~~

"Hi sweetie," Sam says, kissing Rachel on the cheek as he sets his backpack down – he still refuses to get a briefcase, says that they don't have enough space in them. "How was your day?"

"Mmmm," she says. "The workshop for this show is going fantastically well." She wraps her arms around his neck and gives a little jump. He lifts her up, hands under her (fantastic and shapely; she works on it a lot) ass, allowing her to wrap her legs around him and pull him in for a dirty kiss. She breaks it when she feels him start to stiffen up in his trousers. "How about yours?"

"Just fine," he says, walking her back till she's pressed against the wall and pausing to kiss her again, even longer and harder than before. When he stops, he bites his lip before saying, quietly, "I ran into Kurt at lunch."

Rachel pulls back, as much as she can without jumping down. She frowns. "Was that scheduled?"

"Rachel, sweetie," Sam says, pressing his forehead against hers briefly. "You know I'd ask you if I wanted to schedule something." He swings her around, away from the wall, and walks slowly, carefully, towards the couch. "Amie's just happened to have a lot of business meetings there today. I didn't even know he'd be on that side of town."

"I know," Rachel says, bracing herself against the couch with her feet and fingertips as Sam starts to sit down, so that they don't overbalance. "I trust you. I was just surprised to hear you mention him without, you know, mentioning him earlier."

"Yeah," he says, slumping back now that he's properly sat down. She rearranges her legs so that she's half-kneeling on his lap, and pulls her skirt free from where it's trapped between their bodies. Because he's half-hard now, she can feel the texture of his zipper straining against her underwear, which is just so tantalizing and inappropriate that she has to roll her hips down against his. She just, she loves Sam so, so much. The way he's so sweet to her. The way he's so passionately aware of who he is and what he loves to do in a way that very few people – besides Rachel herself, of course – are. The way their libidos are pretty much right on track with each other.

The way that they have the same basic needs.

"Rach, wait," he says, even as his hands settle at her hips and hold her tight against his lap. "I talked to him as we were both leaving. We're thinking of taking a weekend soon." He pauses. "We miss each other."

She rolls her hips again, minutely, because she's growing more aroused and wants some friction against her throbbing cunt. "Okay," she says, because she really doesn't mind, as long as she knows about it ahead of time, and now that he brings it up, she realizes that it _has_ been awhile since they last did this – longer than usual, in fact. "I could use some time with Blaine, anyway."

"I love you so much," Sam says, pulling her harder down against his hips and slouching further back just enough so that he can bury his face in her tits.

"So," Rachel says, wickedly, pulling on his hair until he looks back up at her, then leaning in to lick the shell of his ear and suck it into her mouth and worry at the delicate curve with her teeth. She presses in close and whispers, pitching her voice husky, "Does that mean you'll want me to bring out the strap-on tonight so you can practice taking it before you two leave, or do you want me to put it away until after you get back so he can fill you up extra full when he fucks you?"

Sam groans, hips jerking up against hers, staccato. "Maybe it means I want to be inside you," he says. "In your ass, because I know I won't be topping the entire time I'm with him."

Rachel tries to lift an eyebrow at that, but Sam has just reached up under her shirt and discovered that she took off her bra when she got home and immediately taken the initiative to pinch her nipples, hard, and twist them between the guitar-string calloused tips of his fingers, so she mostly just lets her mouth fall open instead. And because she knows that when she's with Blaine, there will be absolutely none of that, she gasps "Yes, yes, yes."

And then Sam is tugging down on her underwear, so she gets up long enough to pull it off and draw her dress over her head and stand, the late afternoon sun slanting in through their window bathing her in a golden glow, because she looks hot as fuck and she knows it and she likes to watch Sam just watch her pose naked for him.

(The one time she mentioned to Puck that she, as Puck so delicately rephrased it, "takes it up the ass for Sam," he scoffed at her. "Rachel, I know now that chicks don't have prostates," he'd said, even as he tried to surreptitiously re-arrange himself in his jeans. "You don't have to pull one over on me."

"It doesn't mean we can't like it," she'd told him blithely, sipping her Shirley Temple.)

But then Sam is pulling his belt off and unbuttoning his trousers, shoving them and his boxers halfway down his legs, so she goes back to him and kisses him, drawing his thick cock into her hand and pumping it lazily. "Open me," she breathes, so he gets the lube they keep in the drawer on their end table out and squirts some out, slicking his fingers and nudging her legs open with his hand so he can start to work them in, slowly, one at a time until she's stretched around him gasping for him to fuck her already.

There's just something about Sam that makes her open up and lose her reservations, sexually, in a way that very few other people have managed to accomplish with her. It's something about trust, she thinks. The way that they understand that they can do so much for each other, and can do it without shame. The way that Sam likes to eat her out after he's come inside her. The way that she likes to bend him over her lap sometimes and spank him till his ass is red and hot to the touch.

The way that sometimes, they just need to fuck other people, because part of being able to completely satisfy your partner sometimes means accepting that someone else might fill a specific need of theirs better than you can.

They're just lucky to have friends in the same position.

Everyone's been tested and tested again, so Sam slicks his dick with lube and pushes in bare, pausing as he bottoms out so that she can adjust to being filled this way, and Rachel just marvels how different the sensation of his thick hot cock deep inside her ass is from the way it feels when he's balls-deep inside her cunt.

"Rachel," he grits, low and through his teeth. "Fuck, you're so tight. Ride me, baby, please."

Since she has the position of leverage in this situation, she does, pushing off the couch, rising up slightly on her knees and lowering back down again, biting her lip so hard it almost bleeds when he shoves a hand between the two of them and thumbs over her clit in rough, hard circles until she's keening with sensations.

She likes the feeling of his come when he shoots off inside of her, the way she fancies that she can feel it dripping out after he's slipped out of her, the way his lips feel almost cold when she finally manages to catch them in a kiss, because he's been gasping openmouthed for so long.

"I love you," she tells him, when she can finally speak again, and even though he's half asleep underneath her on the couch, he tightens his arms around her and brushes a tired kiss to the top of her head.

"Me, too."

+++

Rachel meets Blaine outside of the theater at 5 pm sharp two Fridays later. She has a text from Sam sitting on her phone that he and Kurt have arrived safely; she won't be hearing from him again until they're boarding their train back on Sunday evening.

("Please take video this time," she'd begged him that morning when she was on all fours on the kitchen floor, breakfast growing cold on the counter, with Sam lined up behind her, his hips snapping forward as he thrust deep into her with every push.

He gave a half-laugh, half-gasp. "You just want to know what Kurt looks like when he comes," he had said, and Rachel ground her hips back hard, because _obviously_ that is precisely what she wants to know, but she also loves adding to their home sex video collection, too.) 

She turns her phone off, though, as Blaine approaches, and puts it deep in her bag. Sam has ways of reaching her if he needs to, but this weekend is about her and Blaine.

Rachel is all dressed up in heels and hose with a conservative dress on and plain, albeit nice, matching underwear on underneath everything and an understated gold band on her left ring finger. Blaine is still in his suit from work, briefcase in one hand. He kisses her on the cheek when he reaches her, and she does the same to him, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on his cheekbone (Blaine likes it when she wears lipstick).

"Hi darling," she says, as he offers her his arm and they walk down the street together.

He hails the cab and they hold hands on the way to the store by the same extended-stay hotel they go to every time Sam and Kurt are out of town – just as Sam and Kurt leave New York City whenever they need time together, Rachel and Blaine both feel awkward about bringing their romance to one of their homes.

But they need the kitchen an extended-stay place provides.

"I know you love your pork belly," Rachel says, as they peruse the shelves. "But I'm thinking something fresher for dinner." She stopped being vegan halfway through college, but she's still very much vegetarian. Sam doesn’t care if he has meat or not, as long as his food is healthy, but he loves cheese too much go all the way, so their diet works out nicely.

"Everything you make is delicious, dear," Blaine tells her, so she piles in the ingredients for this great vegetable lasagna she loves and he picks out the wine pairing and they go to their hotel room. Blaine has already taken both his suitcase and the one that Sam brought with him for Rachel when he went to pick up Kurt that morning up there, because getting the room keys together just makes everything feel a little bit awkward. In Rachel's suitcase is all the kitchen stuff they might need, that the hotel doesn't always stock its rooms with, so after they buy what they need, they go on up.

Blaine pours them both drinks and then he sits in the armchair by the tv and watches Rachel as she puts on the frilly apron she packed and prepares their dinner, boiling the noodles and slicing the zucchini and shredding the carrots and walnuts and cheese and cooking down the tomato sauce and then building the lasagna, and he's watching her with such a proud, secret smile that she has to press her thighs together, because this is so far from what she does with Sam but it's still thrilling in its own special way.

"Have you decided what show we're going to tomorrow, honey?" she asks him, as she bends over to slide the casserole dish into the oven and starts throwing together a spread to make garlic bread with the crusty loaf they'd thrown into their shopping basket at the last minute.

"I was thinking dinner at that Thai place that you love," Blaine says, running a hand through his carefully-coiffed hair and then wiping it surreptitiously on the side of his chair. "And then perhaps the Forum revival?"

Rachel's actually only seen that once since it started up again, since the show times generally conflict with her schedule and then, when she left her old show to start the workshop on a promising new musical, she made a point of seeing shows starring friends first. "That sounds fantastic, Blaine," she says, smiling wide at him.

He matches her smile. "If you have a moment or two to spare, you should come give us a kiss," he says, and since they are in the comfort of their own temporary home, she goes around the counter and into the living room area. She makes as if to untie her apron, but he shakes his head. "It looks good on you," he says.

"Thank you," she says, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

He pats her ass as she straightens up to go slide the garlic bread into the oven with the lasagna. "Hurry back," he tells her, and she guesses that she can probably throw the salad together last-minute, so she comes back to him with her wineglass in one hand and the bottle in her other and perches on the end of his knee when he pats it.

Blaine takes the bottle of wine from her and stretches to put it on the coffee table and then tucks his arm around her waist and pulls her in close. "It's good to be with you again," he whispers, and she curls up a little in his arms, sipping from her glass and just relishing in the companionship.

+++

The thing is, Blaine is totally, completely gay, but there's a part of him that, as he tells Rachel, has always longed for the whole traditional family setup – beautiful wife, cute kids, the whole nine yards.

He mentioned it for the first time during Kurt and Sam's first retreat. He and Rachel had both completely agreed to it – Rachel because she had a one-time offer to sleep with the most beautiful woman she knew, and she and Sam figured that fair was fair, Blaine because he wanted time to build his fantasy football league (as he told Kurt. Rachel knows, though, that Blaine understands that Kurt gets restless sometimes, that keeping and loving someone often means allowing them to be free and that at first he almost didn't say yes.

He's since grown to embrace the situation wholeheartedly).

Rachel's only experience doing more than just kissing a woman was a bit of a let-down, honestly, so she went to Blaine and Kurt's apartment and dragged Blaine out to get drunk with her. And even though she and Sam have what she would classify a very sexually freeing relationship, veering on the edge of downright kinky, the way that Blaine described his curiosity about sex with a woman, about being in this traditional heterosexual relationship, well.

It weirdly excited Rachel, even though Blaine was talking about missionary position and kid's soccer teams, and she hadn't engaged in the missionary sort of thing more than once or twice since college because it didn't usually do it for her. Something about the domesticity of it all just gave her a tremor deep inside, and the next thing she knew, she was kissing Blaine like her life depended on it, and before she knew it they were in a cheap hotel room and he was stroking her hair and rolling on a condom.

She vaguely remembers calling Sam anxiously in the taxi from the bar to the hotel and asking if he and Kurt would mind this happening, and, well. Kurt and Sam were either mostly okay with it, or else they didn't feel like they had any kind of moral high ground to stand on, but in any case they gave their blessing and in the three years since that night, she and Blaine have had a _lot_ of time to perfect their fantasy.

+++

After they eat, Rachel puts her apron back on to do the dishes while Blaine gets out the New York Times crossword puzzle and pours another glass of wine.

"Let's go for a run in Central Park tomorrow," she suggests, as she sets the casserole dish to soak and puts their plates in the drying rack.

"Okay," he says grinning up at her, and then, "Come over here, let's watch something while we finish this wine."

"It was a great pick, by the way," Rachel says, going over to sit by him. She makes as if to take the apron off, but he shakes his head as she reaches to untie the strings, which – well, good, that means that they're going to have sex tonight, too, instead of just building up to one single fuck tomorrow night when they get back from the show.

(She loves taking control when she's with Sam, and then giving up control sometimes, too; they're really on an even footing all of the time, when it comes down to it. But when she's with Blaine – well. Honestly, sometimes she thinks what they have is a thousand times kinkier than anything she does with Sam, and something about the way that they've agreed that Blaine ultimately decides when they finally get to have sex during their weekends, and how they're going to do it, how fast, how simple? It just makes her stomach burn with a fast pulse of desire.)

"Of course it was," Blaine says, smugly, burying his face in her hair and sniffing deeply. Rachel used the shampoo he loves best when she showered this morning; he shows her that he recognizes this by kissing her temple. "I picked it."

"Maybe next time we won't be able to get any wine," Rachel says. She's not entirely sure why she's bringing this up now, honestly, but now that she's said as much, she can't like… take this conversation starter back or anything.

"Why's that?" Blaine murmurs, distractedly. He's still nuzzling against her hair. "It's so nice to have a wife shorter than I am."

That's something she hears a lot during their weekends. And even though they never invoke their significant others when they're together, she answers honestly: "Sam and I are talking about kids."

Blaine sits up straight when that registers. " _Kids_? Rachel – I – pregnant? My god, Rachel, dear, I've got to have you to myself when you're pregnant, even if it's just once or twice." And he runs a hand over her stomach, reverently.

"I'm yours," Rachel promises, breathlessly, watching the way his hand – somehow tanner than the rest of his body – skims across the fabric of her dress. "Always."

"Dear, I," Blaine says, and he leans in to kiss her smoothly, quickly on the lips. "Please forgive me for being so abrupt, but do you mind if we skip the television? I just – I need you in my arms right now." He flushes, whispers, "I need to be inside of you."

"Yes," Rachel breathes, so they make their way to the bed holding hands and lie on their sides for a long moment before Blaine reaches forward, running his hand over her arm once, twice, three times before moving his hand around to fumble the button and zipper on the back of her dress open.

She bites her lip hard and unbuttons his shirt, then unlatching his belt and tugging his shirttails out of his trousers, trying hard to remember not to cup his cock quickly with her hand just to fire him up, because that's not how they do things.

"Darling," she says, pushing herself up a little bit so that he can push her sleeves down off her shoulders and then draw her dress up over her head. He sits up to fold the dress neatly and put it aside, and she unbuttons his trousers and starts tugging the t-shirt he's wearing underneath his button-down free so that she can get to his chest, at least, but he interrupts her to pull it off himself, and then he rips her hose when he tries to push them down.

"I just," he whispers, as he moves down, cupping her legs firmly in hand, letting his fingers drag along her skin as he draws the hose off the rest of the way. "You with child, Rachel, that's just about the sexiest image I can picture."

Rachel grins up at him, even as she lies back so she can be fully on display in her conventional little bra-and-panties set. Eyeing his crotch boldly, she says, "So Blaine, honey, are you going to put a baby in me tonight?"

Blaine's mouth works for a few moments like he's trying to talk and then he just surges forward and kisses her, gently at first and then increasingly more intently, running a hand up and down her side until her mouth falls open under his softly-moving lips. "I want nothing more," he gasps, so she unzips his trousers and they lie and touch each other for a little while longer until the low heat in her stomach explodes and she keens for more.

He smiles at her with so very much love and brushes her hair back and pushes his trousers and boxers down and off and tugs her underwear down, slipping a finger into her slick folds briefly as he does so, just to tease her.

"Do you want me to leave my bra on or off?" she asks, and he bites his lip hard, frozen between her legs from where he's been trying to work her panties off over her feet.

"I want to see all of you," he says, finally, and then they're both naked and he's running tiny circles over her nipple with his thumb and even though she usually lets him initiate things, she pushes up into a kiss, a little insistently.

He moves his hand down to the vee of her legs and presses two fingers up inside of her, drawing the collecting moisture out so that he can twist them damply against her clit, and she takes this as an invitation to curl her hand around his cock, pulling him off with smooth, twisting tugs until he groans and pushes her flat against the bed, nudging her legs open further with his knee and lining himself and pushing in with a snap of his hips, gasping, "You're so beautiful, Rachel, just the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Briefly, she gets so caught up in Blaine, moving inside of her with the continuous rolling of her hips, even as she pushes her legs even wider open so he can get the best possible angle, seeing the way his hair is working free of its gel and curling wherever it doesn't plaster itself to his face with the sweat that's beading on his forehead, that she almost wishes she wasn’t on birth control, that he could actually put a baby in her belly and take this fantasy to the next level.

"Blaine," she gasps, moving her hands over his back, never resting them, just dancing over and over and biting her lip hard until he kisses her mouth slack and warm and sweet, at which point she tangles the fingers of one hand in the tendrils of hair coming loose at the nape of his neck and pushes into his thrusts, gasping as he sets an excruciatingly pleasurable pace.

She doesn’t come until he shoots off inside of her and stills. Right before he pulls out, he grinds his hips against hers until her orgasm catches her and she cries out, shuddering, and he strokes her arm as he pulls out, and then his stomach after he cuddles at her side.

When she goes to use the bathroom later that night, she almost comes again at the sensation of his semen moving back out of her and collecting, slick and thick, on the toilet paper.

+++

However great the sex is, these weekends are about so much more than just naked (arousing) thrusts. Honestly, the most exciting part about this whole arrangement is in the little things: jogging around the Reservoir with Blaine, picking up Starbucks and a copy of the New York Times on their way back to the hotel room, where they sit up in bed to read the newspaper and munch on their scones and sip their coffee, Rachel tucked in the crook of Blaine's arm all the while.

They go to a furniture store after grabbing lunch and walk around, talking about all the stuff they'd buy for their home together. Blaine tries to talk Rachel into moving to Brooklyn, but she just laughs at him, because there is only so far that she can stretch this scenario.

She picks out the end tables; he chooses the couch, and they debate over two different refrigerator options for a full twenty minutes. Rachel's nerves are humming throughout all of it. She wipes her palms off on her skirt and laces her fingers with Blaine's and leans against him as they stand in front of two open freezer doors, judging the space each one will have for the meals she cooks and freezes for the nights she has shows and can't make him dinner.

He pulls her into a hug when they settle on one option and she wraps her arms around his neck and brushes three quick little kisses on his lips before they move on into the baby furniture department.

Rachel has been working on Broadway for several years now, but she's not a big enough name – yet - that the majority of New Yorkers will recognize her on sight. She lusts for fame, but she also wonders if they'll be able to do this, have their weekends of domestic bliss while Kurt and Sam are on one of their retreats, once she's famouser.

In the baby department, they ask a saleskeeper about which cribs are the best models. "Only the best for our little Bridget," Rachel says, patting her stomach.

Blaine interjects, "Or Brendan," and kisses Rachel on her cheek, smiling all the while.

The saleskeeper is charmed. "How far along are you?" she asks, and Rachel has to elbow Blaine, because he actually studied this kind of thing in college, so he spouts off some number.

(Blaine is one of Rachel's best friends and they love each other, but they never say so when they're on one of their weekends. Somehow, that is where they draw their line. Rachel's thought about it before and she thinks she'd be okay with it if Sam told Kurt he loves him when they're together, just the two of them, but she and Blaine just don't let it into their relationship.)

At dinner, Blaine tells Rachel about the community theater production he's working in – he got sucked into the world of politics in college one semester before he declared his major and never looked back, but he still gets involved with theater whenever possible – and she tells him funny anecdotes from work and they hold hands in between their entrees and their desserts.

In the theater, they hold hands again, and if they mouth along with the words to all of the songs, well, who's going to stop them? Blaine even sings Bring Me My Bride to Rachel, voice low, during intermission, tracing what she's pretty sure are the letters to his name on her knee as they sit.

"Do you want to go out after this?" he asks, right as the lights start dimming for Act 2. "Or back home?"

"Maybe the bar downstairs from our place," Rachel whispers, squeezing his hand and tilting her head till it rests on his shoulder and while they watch the rest of the musical, Blaine fiddles with the ring on Rachel's finger, twisting it around and around and around till it's warm against her skin.

+++

During the week, Blaine is one of the most liberal people Rachel knows – and she works in musical theater – but when they're at the hotel bar, he gets into a political debate with one of the other patrons. Rachel can see the wicked glint in Blaine's eyes before he wraps his arm around Rachel's waist and says, "Well, yes, I do think he's quite a good candidate, but he doesn't focus enough on traditional family values, does he?"

The woman looks between the two of them, frowning. "And you agree?" she asks Rachel.

Rachel would normally smoke a pack of cigarettes and thus ruin her voice rather than say anything promoting traditional family values in the way that Blaine is implying right now – she and Sam have talked about marriage and whether it's really for them, even after waiting until her own dads can get married in Ohio, first, and she feels like although she is in a heterosexual relationship it's pretty non-traditional – but Blaine's fingers are digging into her leg in a deliberate sort of way, and just – well. She can't explain it, but she gets a rush from saying, "My husband knows best. I agree with him on everything."

In bed that night, Blaine kisses her face, over and over and over again. "You're so beautiful, dear" he says. "You're so perfect. The perfect wife and the perfect mother to our future children."

Rachel just kisses him back, naughtily slipping a knee up between Blaine's leg until he gets the message and runs a hand down over till it's cupping one of her breasts, tracing the line of the soft cup of her bra through her top.

When they have sex that night, they hold hands. Blaine touches her a lot before he presses in, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm but not pushing her over the edge.

"One day," he gasps, as he slowly presses inside of her, "We'll have our white picket fence and our kids and a dog and everything."

"I can't wait," Rachel says, her eyes falling shut as they start moving together, Rachel's fingers tangled with Blaine's and her legs wrapped around his back, drawing him in deeper with every thrust.

She doesn't need the sex to be satisfied from these weekends, but to be entirely honest – it is a nice bonus.

+++

As much as she loves her weekends with Blaine, they are ultimately exhausting, so it's nice when Sam gets back into town. She and Blaine wait at Grand Central Station for Sam and Kurt's train, suitcases from their stay in hand. Rachel's gold ring is back in her jewelry box. She's wearing a skimpy lace bra and absolutely no underwear under her skinny jeans and has washed all of her make-up off.

As the train pulls in, Rachel turns to Blaine and hugs him tight, brushing one last kiss on his lips. "Thank you for a beautiful weekend, Blaine."

"Always a pleasure, Rachel," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

And then Sam and Kurt are walking toward them, arms brushing together with every step, and Rachel thrusts her suitcase handle at Blaine and rushes at Sam, giving a little jump up so she can kiss him on the mouth. They're in public, so she doesn't slip him (much) tongue, or linger too long into the kiss, but it's just… it's nice to have him back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she tells Blaine and Kurt – they always have dinner together, the four of them, the day after they come back together from one of these weekends, to discuss everything in excruciating detail. Not the specific acts of who fucked who how, but the emotional ins and outs, if it was a nice weekend, if it's something they should continue doing or if it would be better to stop, or switch it up somehow.

"How was your weekend?" Rachel asks him, as they make their way up the stairs in their building after a subdued subway ride in a crowded car.

"I had a really great time with Kurt," Sam says. "It was exactly what I needed." He smiles at her as she jiggles the key in the lock on the door. "It's good to be here with you now, though."

"I told Blaine," Rachel says. "About what we're talking about for the break after workshop finishes, when they're deciding whether to move the show to Broadway."

Sam grins at her. "He like that news?"

"We had a lot more sex this weekend than we usually do," Rachel says, because usually their weekends are mostly about the domesticity first, with sex as a semi-regular extension of that.

"I'll bet," Sam says, and Rachel feels this surge of relief that Sam _gets_ it. Like, they could totally amp up the traditional aspects of their relationship, tone down the strap-on usage and get rid of the handcuffs and video cameras and the whip, but she doesn't want or need that from him. Blaine gets to act out his domestic fantasies with Rachel; Kurt gets to have a safe and accepted way to deal with his restlessness with Sam; Sam gets to be fucked by something besides Rachel's strap-on with Kurt.

And Rachel –

Rachel can't quite explain what it is about her days with Blaine that just do it for her. She's never been the type to crave stereotypically traditional relationships – not since a few confused months way back in high school. The fact of the matter is, she could have sex with Sam spread out on top of her, slowly thrusting in, setting the rhythm and controlling the act. He loves her and they're both very attracted to each other. It could happen. But she doesn’t want it to.

She wants to _want_ Sam, to slip a hand down his pants as she kisses him hello and draw his dick out before they've even said two words to each other when he comes home. She wants him tied down to the bed so she can take her pleasure from him, wants him holding her down and fucking her from behind. She wants him holding her hands as they watch tv, him giving her a foot rub, him cooking her dinner at midnight after a long and exhausting show. She wants everything from Sam.

But with Blaine, she doesn't want the sex-and-companionship so much as she just wants companionship. She can't explain why she gets so wet, just by taking a casserole out of the oven and serving it to Blaine, why going to toy stores and picking out presents for their nonexistent children is just so hot to her. There's just something about the way that Blaine throws himself so totally into his dedication towards their fantasy, the way that, even though in her heart of hearts she knows their relationship is entirely unorthodox, she can access that kind of traditional normalcy that she could never have in her actual life, that's totally refreshing and sexy.

But now is not the time for thoughts, because Sam is kissing her so deeply that she has to drop her bags. "Rachel," he says, urgently. "I just had the most phenomenal weekend. I'm pretty sure I spent four hours total sucking Kurt's cock." He grins at her, and she pictures his lips wrapped around Kurt's dick, tight and hot and moist. She obviously can't feel it when he fellates her strap-on, but she knows the sight and it's beautiful. "And I love doing that, but what I really need right now is to eat your pussy for, like, at least an hour."

Rachel grins at him. She loves the feeling of his tongue thrumming rhythmically around her clit, the way his mouth – which, she's pretty sure, was created exclusively for the task at hand – looks, the way his head is between her legs as he licks up and pushes his tongue into her to draw her moisture out, the way he can bring her to the brink of orgasm time and time again and then, right when she's about to _scream_ with frustration because she's so close and she's been so close and he backs off a little right when she's about to come, the way he grabs her thighs, one in each hand, and presses them further apart right before grazing her clit with his teeth and licking her gently through her orgasm and then, finally, kissing his way up her body until he can thrust his tongue in her mouth and give her a taste of her own cunt.

"Sam," she tells him. "That is the greatest idea I've heard all day."

**Author's Note:**

> these ships, and a lot of these kinks, are new for me to write. please let me know what you think!
> 
>  
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> [lj](http://el_em_en_oh_pee.livejournal.com) | [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com)


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